Gemotions

The morning sun, which streamed through the large windows of Ms. Rodriguez’s classroom, offered no comfort. She had a headache, a persistent throbbing that felt like a drill hammering into her skull. She'd spent the entire weekend prepping for a particularly difficult class, and the students were, as usual, uncooperative. A knock at the door, followed by a squeaky voice.

"Delivery for Ms. Rodriguez!"

It was a box overflowing with what appeared to be… craft supplies. Glitter, glue, colored paper, all the usual suspects. A small, handwritten note read: *Remember how much you loved art class? From Kyle!* Kyle. The student who was always falling asleep, the student she’d repeatedly sent to detention. She couldn't help but narrow her eyes. The box felt like an insult. She shoved it into a cupboard, the door slamming shut with a satisfying *thunk*.